


Fading Memories

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: This short fiction has Neal and Peter reminiscing about the past after the final episode of the series aired highlighting Neal Caffrey’s greatest con. A bit angsty but I think the ending of this story works.





	Fading Memories

According to neurological scientists, nothing that a human being experiences during a lifetime is ever really forgotten. According to extensive research, a part of the brain called the hippocampus does the processing of events as well as linking sensations and emotions into actual memory. It then transfers it all to the cerebral cortex for storage. The contorted rugae located there are capable of holding unfathomable terabytes of information. Picture a mere three pound human organ as a huge file cabinet with specifically designated drawers containing folders arranged in chronological order. A reminiscing person can access that information by locating the appropriate file with just a bit of effort. However, some folders remain untouched and languish for decades. They accumulate a bit of dust and the memories within the covers lose their once sharp clarity. Maybe that’s where the phrase, _“Time heals all wounds,”_ came into use. Any hurt or sorrow simply forms a protective scab and eventually become a scar on the psyche. Nonetheless, every facet of the trauma is still stored away, and will remain deeply imprinted on a brain until that intellectual repository ceases to function upon death.

Neal had a lot of time on his hands now that he had managed to escape from Federal tyranny back in the States. He was a different person living in a fascinating and exhilarating new city, and the world was now his oyster. He certainly didn’t want to dredge up old memories filled with turmoil and angst. Why visit a torturous past? However, on an unconscious level, Neal’s mind had other ideas.

File folders were plucked from that virtual storage cabinet during sleep, and when he awoke, the visions plagued him during the harsh light of day. A whole cast of characters took their places on the stage that had been Neal’s life—a mother, a father, a mentor, and even a lover or two. Unfortunately, Neal discovered that the most distant memories were less likely to solidify into something whole and complete. They remained like wispy tendrils of smoke on the periphery of his vision. Try as he might, he couldn’t really recall what his mother’s face looked like when the two of them had been tucked away and shrouded in the mystery of WitSec. For him, her image would forever be frozen in a Kodak moment as she sat on a front step and smiled benignly as her young son posed for a picture wearing his father’s policeman hat. Neal really didn’t remember that day, nor could he now remember the timber or the resonance of her voice or the touch of her hand. She was a phantom always just out of reach.

Sometimes during the course of a mundane day, it was Neal’s senses that would evoke memories. A sound, or a taste, or even a smell would resurrect images in his brain. The cloying whiff of patchouli would bring Kate’s face into sharp focus, while the aroma of strong, freshly-brewed coffee would remind Neal of a caring and sweet landlady. If a short, bald man passed him on the street, Neal would whip his head around for a second look, maybe unconsciously hoping that Mozzie had managed to find his long-lost cohort in crime.

However, the one face that Neal would never allow to fade away was Peter’s. It took very little effort to recall every look and every expression. His mind’s eye could see the furrows in a forehead when the man was deep in contemplation, or the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. Neal could even hear his voice, sometimes strident, sometimes pleading, and, occasionally, fondly soft. Neal almost knew the poignant words by heart.

“You said goodbye to everyone but me, Neal. Tell me why?” Peter had cajoled on an airport tarmac. Fast forward to “We’re going to get you out of this,” being frantically intoned years later as Neal was being loaded into an ambulance near Wall Street. Perhaps, at the time, Peter had been trying to convince himself of that fact.

Neal could hear his own response that fateful day echoing in his head. “You’re the only one who saw good in me. You’re my best friend.”

And Neal had meant those words. Even though he was a con man pulling his greatest con, that final exchange between them couldn’t have been more truthful. Neal needed to be free, but he had to provide Peter with his own freedom, as well. Their history read like a prophetic, cautionary tale. If Neal stayed with Peter, he would only keep dragging the agent down, and Peter deserved a better life than one fraught with missteps and peril thanks to his confidential informant.

~~~~~~~~~~

Peter Burke never allowed his mind to forget either. He visited that file cabinet of memories quite often, and he even had the aid of physical, tactile stimuli at his fingertips to enable the kaleidoscope of images to tumble forth. In the Caffrey box tucked away in the attic were pictures of Neal that spanned the years from a callow, cocky youth under surveillance to a slightly more mature man holding up a set of numbers on his booking photo. The most treasured images, however, came much later. There was a group photo of the White Collar unit with Neal front and center next to Peter, and another photograph—just a crystalized moment in time when two friends were decked out for their “prom” photo op.

Likewise, Peter had no difficulty replaying snippets of dialogue that spanned almost a decade. They ran the gamut of nostalgia, sometimes touching and sometimes hurtful.

“Thank you. I would never have found her without you.”

“I pull a map up on you every day.”

“What are you not telling me, Neal?”

“I’ve never lied to you, Peter.”

“You’ve been trouble since you came to work for me with your glossy smile and those annoying little hats!”

 “Because you’re a con. It’s who you are and all you’ll ever be!”

That last statement had been uttered in the heat of the moment and Peter would regret it for the rest of his life. He wished that he could rewind the whole drama and play his role as that of a friend as well as a watchdog. Neal deserved that, and a bit of trust might have altered the eventual outcome. At the end, Neal had been determined and foolhardy, driven by a mania to be free. Holding up an empty tracking anklet outside the morgue wasn’t the kind of freedom Peter had wanted for Neal. It shouldn’t have ended that way because there was so much that had been left unsaid between them.

Then came the eventual day of enlightenment, and Peter began to wonder if perhaps a divine power residing somewhere in the cosmos did allow second chances. Now it was time to fix an injustice as well as bare his own soul by saying the heartfelt words in person.

“I’ve missed you, Neal, and it’s time to come home so we can make this right.”


End file.
